A White Flag at Half-Mast
by RaspBerryHats
Summary: Her mother didn't see why she couldn't trust him. She didn't understand that it had a lot more to do than a frustrating, murderous pirate/ Five times Emma Swan didn't trust Killian Jones. And the one time she did. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1: Murder in the Dark

**Chapter 1: Murder in the Dark (That time she didn't trust him to keep his promise)**

* * *

Emma ran. Emma ran over concrete streets, past closed shops on Main Street and under swiftly passing streetlights. She ran until she felt her heart pounding in her chest, her blood flushed in her cheeks, sweat rolled in globs down her back. But she didn't feel the pain in her calves or the sharp pain in her lungs. She felt nothing but sheer panic. The faces of her family flashed in her mind with every lunge, with every gasp of cold Northeastern breath. Henry, Mary-Margret, David— they had no idea. They had no idea of the danger waiting behind their front door.

_There's not enough time_, her whirling mind grasped from a string of racing thoughts. _Please don't take them away from me— not yet—_

She turned up Mary Margret's street, the same street she remembered with thoughts of home and safety, the street and people she would die to protect. She could feel that safety ebb away underneath her boots as the town's clock ticked like the giant hand of God sealing her fate to be alone forever. The streets were too quiet, as if the fates watched from above, reveling in her misery. Emma could only hear the sound of her heart, the whistle of the wind, the clang of her gun against her rib cage and the horrible whispers of despair in her ears:

_You won't make it in time._

_They're probably dead already._

_You never had any chance to be happy._

_He's killed them and it was your fault._

_You should have left him to die._

_This is your fault._

_Everything is your fault._

Emma burst in through the lower levels of the apartment building. She had three floors to go up. Her feet were stinging in agony but she took the steps two at a time. She turned the corner of the hallway to Mary Margret's door and nearly slid past it. She recovered her feet just as she saw him, fiddling with the lock.

"No!" She gasped and lunged forward. Just as the lock slid back, she threw herself into his back and they both flew through the door, breaking completely through the lock. The wood splintered away with a loud crack, metal scraps knocking free. Their bodies collided on the floor with a tremendous thud that no doubt shook the entire apartment.

With instinct, Emma grabbed her gun from the holster without taking her eyes off the back of the hood. She pressed it roughly to his head and held it there. Her body was shaking from exhaustion, her knees quivering at his sides. However, the hand that held the gun was completely still.

"Give me one good reason not to end you right now," Emma murmured in the darkness of the apartment. The moonlight shown on the silver hook, making it glitter menacingly. "Give me one," she breathed.

There was a pause, a pause that passed too quickly and yet, far too agonizingly slowly, and she rose and fell with his sigh.

"I've come for a truce."

The lights of the room switched on as three pairs of feet came tumbling down the stairs. Emma didn't look away.

"Emma?" Mary-Margret gasped. She held Henry close, shoving her grandson gently behind her as she surveyed the scene. David watched with an open mouth, his eyes sliding from his daughter straddling a hooded stranger to the door, leaning off its hinges.

"Emma, what is going on?" He muttered in awe.

Emma blinked. She realized she was staring far too intently at the hood, trapped in her own thoughts, her own murderous thoughts. They came out in pieces.

"He made it back . . ." She gasped, still panting. "I don't know how . . . but somehow . . . Cora maybe . . . but he made it back . . . and he's a threat . . . I found out and— and I had to come . . . to keep you safe . . ."

Mary-Margret threw a worried look to her husband who returned with a look of fear. David stepped forward, his hand outstretched, and gently touched Emma on the shoulder.

"Who made it back, Emma? Who? Who's dangerous?"

At that moment, the invader turned his head, facing the family, the hood sliding against the gun held there. He smiled.

"Charmed, I'm sure."

Mary-Margret gasped, grabbing David by the arm and pulling him back towards the stairs.

"What? Who is he?" He asked, alarmed.

"Emma's right, that man is incredible dangerous. David, take Henry and leave. He'll kill all of us given the chance."

"Snow!" David took her by the shoulders. She yanked her gaze from the man on the floor and into the worried face of her husband. "Who is he?"

Henry slid out from behind his grandmother, his mouth in a line and his eyes curious. He approached the man on the floor, the man his mother was moments away from blowing to bits.

Snow reached for him. "Henry! Don't go near him, he's—,"

"Hook." The child said astutely. "He's Captain Hook. Isn't that right?"

Emma suddenly found home by the sound of her son's voice. She had finally caught her breath as she looked up into his eyes.

"Yes, this man is Captain Hook. And he came here to kill you. All of you." She added with a look to her parents.

"Actually," Hook began, a bit disgruntled. "I had no intention of—,"

"Save it." Emma snapped and pressed down harder with the barrel of her gun. He grimaced. "I know what happens to people who double-cross you and after we left you in the Enchanted Wood with a pissed-off Cora, there's no telling what you were going to do to Mary-Margret or I. It was your lucky night that they were taking care of my son as well. Take away everything I love in one swoop. Bet you were just _itching_ with anticipation."

"If you would please remove the firearm from my head, I would be happy to tell you exactly what I'm doing here in Storybrooke, which has absolutely nothing to do with your family, I can assure you."

"Still not a reason to mount your ass in my office." Emma growled.

She felt his body tense with annoyance. "Cora didn't come here with me. I double-crossed her and sent her to a different world instead. However, I doubt she will stay there for long, now that she has revenge on her mind. I'd like to be gone and done with my revenge when she gets here. If I'm not here when she does, she'll leave Storybrooke. No harm, no foul on your part."

"Then why did you come here tonight?"

"As I said, I've come to make a truce. You give up the bounty on my head and I leave your merry lot alone. Deal?"

"And why should we trust you?"

"Because I make a damn good assassin."

A chill ran down Emma's spine but she held steady. Her family was quiet. She was calling the shots.

"So you get rid of Gold and then you leave Storybrooke? Simple as that?"

"Simple as that, love. Just keep your day-saving family out of my way, alright?"

Emma swallowed. She didn't remove the gun from his head.

"Emma, honey, I think he's telling the truth." Mary-Margret muttered, stepping forward. "He'll keep Cora away from this town and take care of Rumple. We can trust him."

"Mom, the last time we trusted him, he left us in a cave to rot."

"Technically, that was your fault. I was fully prepared to—,"

Emma knocked the barrel against his skull pointedly. "Shut it."

He growled in agitation. "Look, use your sodding power to see if I'm lying. You got me once before, why don't you just do it again? Test me or just shoot me now. I'd rather not lie on the floor like this for the rest of eternity."

She knew he wasn't lying. She could feel it in her bones, just like she always could with anyone. She knew he was right. But for some reason she couldn't remove the gun.

Until Henry touched her arm. "Come on, Mom," he said quietly. "This is a house full of princes and princesses trained in the art of deadly combat. I'm pretty sure we could take one little pirate."

She looked up at her son, a son that believed in his family wholeheartedly. He knew they would never leave him, no matter the obstacle. Emma swallowed, and slowly, hesitantly re-holstered the gun. She climbed off of Hook and stood up. The pirate followed, rubbing the back of his head gently as he went.

"There, isn't that more civil?" He asked with a wide grin. Then he frowned and glanced over his shoulder to Mary-Margret. " '_He'll kill us all given the chance'_? Really, darling, doesn't that seem a bit drastic? I dread messy killings, ones so unnecessary as well. Hate to ruin a good rug."

Emma watched him with great contempt. He had done away with the usual pirate garb, replacing it with rough jeans, a dark shirt and a washed-out red hoodie. It fell back as he turned to face Emma once again. _He probably stole all of that out of the laundry mat without even considering who they belonged too_, Emma thought angrily. He could have been some hoodlum off the street, except for the glinting hook hanging by his left side. Mary-Margret leaned forward, pulling both her and Henry behind David, who was obviously eying the baseball bat under the staircase.

"For someone who wants to leave Storybrooke as soon as possible, it looks like you've made yourself quite at home." Emma said dryly motioning to the clothes.

"Once you live for over a hundred years, you learn to adapt, blend in. Not raise suspicions to your enemy," Hook said, picking lint off the arm of the hoodie. "Which makes it so very irritating that you even found out I was here. I was hoping for a much more pleasant surprise."

"You're over one hundred years old?" Henry gaped at him. "Are you also a vampire or something?"

Something glowed in Hook's eyes that took Emma slightly aback. "No, lad, I'm not immortal. Just spent some time in a place unlike any other. I could tell you stories about it if you'd like."

"No." Emma crossed over the room, standing in front of her family. "You'll be going nowhere near my son."

Hook's eyebrow jumped as a sardonic expression crossed his face. "Fine, Sheriff, have it however you like." He looked back down at his clothes, shrugging. "I couldn't have her following me. Rumplestiltskin was on the look-out for her and would have sensed me coming a mile away. I need time to get used to this new land and figure out a way to exact my revenge. I need the element of surprise and for right now, I need to stay out of his range."

"So Rumplestiltskin is your angle here? Not me, not Mary-Margret, just revenge?" Emma asked for what she felt like the hundredth time. But she had to make sure. She was giving him a promise that if he broke, she wouldn't even hesitate about blowing her entire round into his chest.

"Darling, as much fun as it is to play this lovely game of cat-and-mouse with you, there are things out there that need my attention first." He took a step toward Emma. She crossed her arms and held her ground. "But once I'm done here, I'd love to play more games with you, maybe ones that your family wouldn't care to see—,"

David lunged forward without warning and pinned Hook to the wall. "Don't you dare talk to my daughter that way, you sewer rat!"

"Like father, like daughter," Hook chuckled through the hand at his throat. "Honor runs through this family, indeed."

"I could run you through with my sword," David muttered darkly. "How would you like that?"

"I want you out of here, Hook." Emma said sternly, glaring at him over David's broad shoulder. "I want you to stay out of my sight and away from my family when you deal with Gold. Don't come here for protection, for food, for anything. You are not welcome."

David threw him to the side and Hook stumbled, regaining his balance. He straightened up, and cast a wide glance at the Charming family. He scowled.

"Very well, I'll leave you to it. I'll just dump the body on the doorstep and ring the bell, aye?" He swallowed, fixing his collar. "You know, as heads of state, you've all got horrible manners when greeting visitors."

"Get out, or you're spending the night in a cell for public disturbance." Emma snapped.

Hook scowled and nodded curtly. He threw a glare to the rest of her family before readjusting the hoodie with a roll of his shoulders and heading towards the door.

"Wait!" Henry rushed out away from his mother. Hook paused in the doorway. "Can you really tell me about being a pirate, Mr. Captain Hook?"

"Henry!" Emma hissed. "He's evil! You don't associate with evil people!"

"For you, young lad, call me Killian." A faint smile played at his smooth lips. He was fully aware of Emma's rapidly growing agitation, which only made him smile wider. "I can tell you all sorts of stories. But I think that'll be for another time, aye?"

Henry nodded and allowed Emma to pull him away. Killian—Hook— straightened and grinned through his dark eyes at the sheriff.

"Good night, Lady Swan. Prince and Princess Charming. Sir Henry." He bowed softly and turned out the door. Catching the splintered frame, he added, "Now that was entirely the sheriff's fault. I had nothing to do with it."

And with that, the dull hood covered his face and the captain was gone. Mary-Margaret rushed to shut what she could of the door.

"I've heard stories about him, about Captain Hook." David said quietly, watching the door with trepidation. "I can't believe that's who you met in the Enchanted Forest. I didn't know he ever left Neverland. I wish I had known sooner that he had."

"How did you know he was back, Emma?" Mary-Margaret asked, coming over to place a hand on her daughter.

"I was at Granny's and someone said they say a stranger walking around town with a silver hook for a hand. I couldn't believe it was him, but I couldn't take the chance that it was. So I ran here to warn you all."

"You ran here?" Mary-Margaret asked in surprise. "Emma, that's so far! Why did you just take your car?"

The sheriff shrugged and pulled her son tighter. She rested her chin on the top of his head. "I panicked."

"We were about to start watching a movie," Henry said happily, glancing up. "I was going to show David and Mary-Margaret the Disney version of their story. We were just settled down when you . . ."

"Broke the door?" Emma grimaced sheepishly. "Sorry, I'll pay for that."

"No worries. I can fix it in the morning." David said firmly. He tried to shove the door back into its frame. It groaned in pain. "Maybe."

"Can we make some hot cocoa and get back to the movie?" Henry asked of his grandmother. "Emma, can you just stay the night?"

"I would feel a lot safer with that lunatic out there, if you just stayed here with us." Mary-Margret added, shrugging. David nodded and put an arm around his wife. She curled up under his shoulder.

"I'm sure there's room in the guest bed with Henry." He said, smiling.

Emma swallowed, trying hard to hide the swell of unfamiliar happiness she felt when she realize they were all begging her to stay. She nodded. "I already locked up the office. I'm sure one night won't hurt anyone."

"Yes! Your sushi pajamas are upstairs!" Henry yelped and took off up the staircase to get his mother's clothes. He was gone in a second.

"I'll get the hot cocoa started," David said with a grin. He went to the kitchen and took the milk from the fridge.

Mary-Margaret smiled to her husband before gently pulling Emma away from his view. Her face grew serious. It was times like these that Emma found it hard to really place her as the dainty Snow White.

"Can we trust him?" Mary-Margaret asked in a low voice. "Do you really believe he means us no harm?"

Emma sighed and shrugged. She had been wondering the same thing ever since those blue eyes had slipped out the door. What if she made the wrong call?

"We can't ever trust him," Emma said slowly. "Not with anything. But we can stand by his word. He always has."

"Then why did you chain him up back in the giant's cave?" Mary-Margaret asked imploringly, using the same fast, low tone, clearly missing the point.

Emma swallowed. Her mother didn't see why she couldn't trust him. She didn't understand that it had a lot more to do than a frustrating, murderous pirate.

"If he had other intentions up on that beanstalk, I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk him double-crossing us for Cora. He plays for his own team, Mary-Margaret, and that's why he's dangerous. He'll do or say whatever for his own interest. He'll turn on anyone as soon as he gets the better offer. But that's why I think we're safe." When Mary-Margaret looked confused, Emma continued. "There's no one here to make him a better offer. We all want Gold dealt with and nothing Gold can say will stop him. My only worry is Cora, but like Hook said, I think she'll be dealt with for a long time."

Mary-Margret watched her daughter with worried eyes for a long time. Then she stepped forward into a tight hug. "I know you'll do whatever it takes to keep this town safe, to keep us safe," she whispered. "And that makes me so unbelievably proud of you, Emma. I couldn't wish for anything more."

Emma was secretly glad when she heard Henry's thunderous footsteps racing down the stairs. As her mother looked away, it gave her time to wipe her eyes.

"Here you go, Mom!" Henry cried happily as he handed Emma a pair of embarrassingly old pajamas.

"Oh, the blackmail these could provide." Emma muttered as she looked at the "retro-chic" clothes.

"Come on, I want to watch the whole thing before bed!" Henry said happily as David came around the corner, four mugs balanced on a tray.

"M'ladies," he said with a smile as the women gathered their drinks.

"Come on! It's a school night!" Henry moaned, pulling at his mother's hand.

They all settled in front of the television. Mary-Margaret took her daughter by the hand as Henry pressed play. "It's good to have you home," she said softly.

Emma smiled and honestly, she tried to throw herself into the movie. She tried to listen to David's indignant rant about what a faceless shmuck the prince in the movie was. She tried to laugh at Mary-Margaret's horror at Snow White's hair. She held her son tight and drank the cocoa.

But every minute, she would watch the door. Every minute she'd look out the window, expecting to see those dark blue eyes staring back at her, that knowing smirk pulling at his lips. Around eleven, rain began to fall and the movie ended. She said good night to her parents, to Henry, and convinced them all that she would sleep on the couch. "Henry needs a good night's sleep in his room," she lied to them all.

The lights went off and Emma watched the street below, her eyes tracking every shadow, every movement.

Captain Hook— Killian Jones— was a dangerous man and Emma simply couldn't keep him out of her head.

* * *

_*A/N: Hey, this is my first OUAT fic. Obviously, there's more to come, only about five more chapters. So its short and sweet and to the (Captain Swan) point. Hope you like it!_


	2. Chapter 2: Faces of the Facade

**Chapter 2: Faces of the Façade (That time she didn't think he could be vulnerable)**

* * *

Emma awoke the next morning from a fitful sleep. The pajamas Henry found her remained untouched by the made-up couch. She lifted her head just as blue light tumbled in through the blinds. She stood up from the chair that had been her bed; the wooden rocker perched next to the window. She wasn't sure how long she waited for a shadow, but it wasn't enough to shake the feeling someone was still watching her, from some corner of the room she couldn't find.

Emma gathered her holster from the ground and strapped it back to her waist. As she slipped her leather jacket back over her shoulders, she noticed the bed that looked far too tidy to be believable. With a quick glance upstairs and a hot rush of embarrassment, Emma flopped down onto the couch, mussing up the old sheets and comforter placed there by Mary-Margaret. She smelled David's shampoo in the pillow and caught of a whiff of perfume from the comforter. This is where she felt safe, and protected. Comfortable for the first time in six hours, Emma rolled to the side and surveyed the quickly lightening room.

This is where her family lived. This is where she could relax. This is where—

—This is where Hook stood and threatened to ruin everything.

Emma sat bolt up right and grabbed her phone from the table. Without a second look back, she stormed out the front door (as best she could without dismantling it again) and made a straight line for Granny's diner.

She half-expected him to be sitting there, looking as smug as ever, knowing she couldn't kick him out without causing a scene. Emma swallowed the knot in her throat when she saw the diner nearly empty at 7:15 in the morning. Relief felt heavy in her heart as she sat down at the bar. It wasn't long until Red— the only girl Emma honestly felt physically inferior to— strutted in on her mile-long legs.

"Good morning, Sheriff. What'll it be today?"

"Actually, could I see your grandmother?" Emma asked. Red was wearing a plaid, red shirt today, her hair done up a cute messy bun Emma's hair never could agree on. Suddenly, it was then and there that Emma decided only Granny needed to be aware of the possibly dangerous pirate running around Storybrooke. Red was just too young and inexperienced to deal with information like that. "I need to talk to her, alone, actually."

Red frowned, her lovely mouth turned down, before she shrugged and pointed with a pen to the back of the diner, where they kept their inn. "She's doing some accounting work. She get's pretty into it."

After a quick cup of coffee, Emma wandered to the back and found Granny seated at a table, her nose in a big thick leather book and receipts in organized stacks around her.

"Granny?"

The old woman looked up, her face crinkled in a concentrated frown, but as she spied the young girl, the frown lifted and she broke into a wide smile.

"Emma! Please don't mind the mess! Sit down!" Granny shuffled some of the receipts but Emma waved them away.

"No, it's fine, I can't stay for long. But there something you should know— well, it's more like a favor."

Granny nodded and put down the pen in the big book, giving Emma her full, undivided attention. Emma sighed and glanced back through the door to Ruby, who was leaning against the bar to tell one of the dwarves a clearly hilarious joke. _He would kill everyone here if given the chance_, Emma thought sadly. _The things he would do to Red—_

Oddly, her brain took a sharp left in her train of thought, prompted by her own phrase. Images involving Red and Hook that she never wanted to have were suddenly plastered on the inside of her brain like hideous wallpaper.

"Emma, are you alright? You've gone bright red! Now you're kind of pale! Is everything alright?"

Emma cleared her throat, internally clawing at her cheeks to bring down the red. She turned away from the door, her entire body warm.

"Y-y-yeah, I'm fine. But, look, this is serious." Emma stepped forward towards Granny, determined to focus. She put on her best "I'm the Sheriff, so don't ask questions" face. "Captain Hook is in Storybrooke. He doesn't mean us any harm. He's just here to deal with Mr. Gold, something I think we can all appreciate. But he has a reputation of . . . well, being a pirate so it would be stupid just to let our guard down." Granny nodded, her hand tightening around the pen. "So, I'm asking you if he comes in here, please just call me. And do it discreetly. I don't think he'll cause a scene, but I just need to be there if he does."

"And I'm guessing he'll be pretty obvious, with a hook for a hand. And you know, the scent of evil following him around."

Emma grinned. "Nothing gets passed you, does it?"

"With a werewolf for a granddaughter," Granny smiled, her eyes warm and years of battle-experience reflected there, just for a moment. "You've got to be ready for anything."

There was a clash of sound outside— something colliding and possibly breaking. Emma, fearing the worst had come in pirate form, bounded out the door to the diner. Grumpy stood there, looking frantic.

"Where's the sheriff?"

"I'm here! What's going on?"

He was visibly shaken. "You've gotta come quick, miss! Something's happened!"

She had never seen Grumpy so cryptic, almost as if he couldn't find the words. And that, coming from the loudmouth dwarf, meant something was truly amiss. He gave one more wide-eyed stare to the diner before hurrying out the door. Emma threw a glance over her shoulder to Granny. She read _I'm going to find my crossbow_ in the old woman's eyes before racing after Grumpy.

He was silent the whole way there. Emma never realized how quiet her old Bug was until nothing was there to fill the void. Grumpy grunted whenever they were supposed to turn and after several painful minutes of worry, he brought them to the edge of town. Cars were lined up, as if half the town decided to pack up and leave, but something stopped them.

Emma glanced at Grumpy as they began walking towards the edge of the town line. But still he was quiet. A grumble of voices started up as they got closer, and before they reached the edge, Blue appeared from behind the trees, the rest of the dwarf family following her, all looking worried.

"Emma! I'm so glad you're here!"

"Why? What happened?"

"It's Rumplestiltskin!" Blue cried and all the dwarves shuddered. "He's somehow left town!"

"Wait, what do you mean? He's gone? He got passed the barrier?"

Blue looked moments from tears. "I don't know how but yes, Emma, he got out! Last night he came to the nunnery and gave back a fairy wand. He said he wouldn't need it any more. When we asked why, he said, he'd be leaving town soon and out there, there's no need for magic! It got out that he had figured out a way to leave and suddenly everyone came to see if he could really do it! But Emma—,"

The fairy suddenly turned pale and swayed as if she were about to faint. The dwarves huddled around her to keep her upright. Blue swallowed, her tiny hands wringing together.

"And then, this man showed up. And Emma, he was horrible."

It was Emma's turn to break out into a cold sweat. "What did he do? Did he hurt anyone?"

"He appeared out of nowhere just before Rumple crossed over. They started talking about revenge and a hand and a crocodile and someone named Milah— but then, the man swung forward and he had a hook for a hand!" The dwarves nodded in united horror. "Rumple pushed Belle behind the town line and said something about giving up, and then he followed her. And they were both fine!"

"Did Hook follow them?" Emma's heart sank in fear for poor Belle.

"No— well, he tried," Blue frowned, her big eyes fluttering as she tried to remember. "Something happened— to his hand— it looked like magic."

Emma swallowed. "So where is he now?"

"Everyone started running and screaming after they began fighting. Mostly everyone just left, their cars included. But I think he's still down there. We left to go find you, so I don't really know."

Emma looked beyond the blue fairy, into the woods. She nodded. "You all head back to town, get people to move their cars. I'll go see what I can do about Hook."

She moved forward, but Blue grabbed her arm. "Hook? You know this man?"

"Believe me, I wish I didn't."

Emma trudged over roots and bramble, vaguely wondering how all her parents' stories could be true: how in the world did they run through the forest with their giant fluffy capes flapping around?

As she moved onward, her skin began to prickle, as though a cool wind blew down her neck. She shook it off, this feeling of misplaced elation. She was much too focused on not falling flat on her face to understand these feelings of excitement.

After a while, she wondered if she had not walked straight passed him. She was not from her parents' land and could walk right through the barrier with no fear. But her skin had yet to settle and for some reason, she knew she was heading in the right direction.

Soon, she found the road again. And there, sitting with his feet nearly touching the orange town line, was Hook. He had his back to her and he was completely still.

"Oh good, you're alone." Emma said by way of greeting, as she picked herself over the last of the roots and climbed up onto the road. "I kind-of expected I'd have to call a tow truck to pick up the bodies."

He was silent for a moment before sighing. "I told you, I came here to put only one body in the ground, and obviously, since there isn't one—,"

She stood next to him as he stared out down the road. Realistically, there was nothing spectacular about their view, just an empty wooded road, one of thousands in Maine. But Emma knew he wasn't really staring at nothing.

"I heard you caused a scene. Really scared some people. Strike one, Hook."

He acted like he didn't even hear her. He was breathing softly, his eyes watching something Emma couldn't even begin to imagine. He sat hunched, his good hand clenched into a fist. Emma didn't like this side of him, this quiet, pensive man who looked, with every fiber of his being, completely and totally . . . defeated. Emma looked away, something hot rising in her cheeks. She was about to speak again when he did instead:

"For three hundred years, no one ever dared tell me where I can and can't go. No one dared to keep me from my quest, from my revenge. No one, not a single living breathing entity has ever told me no. Because I'm Captain Hook. And now, I'm cursed. I am cursed by my very own enemy. I am told, despite my name and my ship and my thirst for revenge, I do not exist."

Emma frowned, oddly enthralled by his speech. "Wha—,"

Without letting her finish, he took off one of his rings and threw it forward into the barrier. The magic snapped and popped, the ring covered in electricity— and then it was gone. From existence.

"What was that?" Emma took a step back.

"I did not come from your world." Hook said quietly, his voice raw. "Nor was I sent here by Regina's spell. Outside this land of magic, I am not real. That's why I cannot follow Rumplestiltskin. I am nothing but a figment of a child's imagination. And if I am not real, how can my revenge be anything more than a bedtime story? What do I do now, Emma?"

He looked up at her from the gravel road, his blue eyes imploring her. Captain Hook was entirely lost.

Emma swallowed. This was not the type of conversation she was expecting to have with anyone— especially not him.

"I—I don't know."

Hook blinked, shaking his head as if he suddenly realized the vulnerability on his face. "Right, right— obviously— of course, you don't."

"So you're not going after him?"

He scowled. "I thought the ring disappearing made that abundantly clear."

Something dawned on Emma that she hadn't considered before. She took a step away from the pirate, her hand slowly retreating to her gun.

"So with Gold gone, does this mean our deal is over? You're coming after my family now?"

For the first time all day, she saw him become truly angry. He scoffed and looked at her indignantly.

"Blimey, Emma, no! I'm not out for you, or your family, or this sodding town. You have to learn that not everyone aims to hurt you!" He attempted to stand, but he wobbled, as if there was something wrong with his leg. He grunted as he stood, his stance wide, almost like he was trying to balance himself. He adjusted his jacket, still not looking at her. "Especially not me."

Something about his phrase made her heart skip a beat. "What the hell does that mean?"

He froze momentarily, his eyes skirting the ground. But he jerked his shoulders as if to throw off something uncomfortable. "Nothing, you wouldn't understand."

Hook took a step away from her, to head back into town but he stumbled. She rushed forward to prop him back up again. Her hand pressed to his chest and her other was around his waist; their foreheads were close. She smelled leather and salt, and his breath smelled like mint. She smelled open-water and adventure, the kind she wanted when she was seventeen and wide-eyed, the kind she thought were just limited just to this world. It was all clogging her brain like fog and her knees shuddered under the confusion.

"I'm sorry, about Milah, and your hand. Gold, he deserves to pay."

Hook nodded, watching her beneath his shoulder. His blue eyes roamed her in ways some part of her knew was wrong, but at the present moment, she couldn't stop him.

"Aye, lass, that he does." His breath was like a whisper, a spray of the salty sea on her face.

Emma felt a sharp pain in her chest that finally cleared her head and she stepped back. It was only then did she realize that it was her heart that caused the pain, as it rammed itself forcefully against her ribcage. She felt nearly faint. When she looked at Hook, he was breathing hard, as if he had just run a mile. They were both staring wide-eyed at each other.

It was the stress of the day, the lateness of the (ten o'clock in the morning) hour, that forced Emma to roam him with her eyes. A different jacket, this one dark, but oddly more formal, as if he planned to kill in style. She noticed something about his good hand.

"Hook, what happened?" Emma stepped forward, but he pulled back. The movement caused him to step back and his knee gave. Emma grabbed him and righted him again. She took his hand. It was blistering red, a welt already growing on his palm. This close again, she noticed blood seeping through his pants over his knee.

"Jeez, did Gold do this?" Emma asked, turning his hand over. Hook watched her with a smile that snowballed into a smirk.

"Not worried about me, are we, Emma? Seems you're not scared of the big bad pirate after all."

She looked up. His blue eyes were light, taunting her, begging her to play. In every way, he was the old Hook, the one she first met. The one who tried to double-cross her. The real Captain Hook. The sad, lost man— the one with a heart too big for his chest— she met on the road was one she'd probably never see again. The disappointment must have shown on her face because the smirk on his face fell and he took back his hand as he cleared his throat.

"I tried to going after them, pushing my way through, but my skin— well, it ended up much like that ring."

"It disintegrated?" Emma asked, appalled.

"Seems a plausible explanation." Hook said with a lopsided grin. Emma felt heat rising from her cheeks so she looked down.

"That doesn't explain the blood on your leg."

Hook scowled. "That crocodile took more than a few bites out of me than I would have liked. I'm sure I'll feel the rest of them in the morning."

"The rest?"

Hook opened his mouth as if to answer, but his eyes flitted up to her face, as if he realized she had taken an interest in his state of being. But he let it go and simply nodded.

"For an old codger, he's unfortunately quite agile with that blasted cane of his."

Emma sighed, already regretting the decision she was about to make. But this was the only way she could keep everyone safe. She straightened up, attempting to look very formidable. Hook's mouth threatened to jump in amusement (_because of course the bastard saw right through her_) but he waited for her to continue.

"I—I—I have . . . a healing _potion_ from Gold. Henry burnt himself once and Gold made him drink this _potion_ and he was better in a second. He gave us the rest, of the _potion_, just in case."

"Why are you saying it like that, love?" Hook couldn't contain himself. He was grinning far too widely.

"Because it sounds ridiculous," Emma said quickly, looking away in order to keep a lid on her rising embarrassment. "And I'll show you where it is, but you have to promise me something."

It was easy to be formidable, now that she knew exactly what she was fighting for. Hook nodded, all traces of humor leaving his face.

"You have to leave this town alone. You can't hurt anyone in Storybrooke, especially my family. No danger can come to them while you're here. Got it?"

Hook watched her with careful eyes before nodded. "I'd shake your hand, but considering both mine are out of service currently . . ."

But she couldn't let him go this easy. "I'm serious, Hook. Anything happens and I will lock you away."

His mouth a fine line, and his eyes— she didn't like staring this long into such an abyss— _she could fall right into them_— they were dark like cold water. Gingerly, with the fraction of his unburned skin, he pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear.

"I swear to you, Emma Swan, nothing will happen to this town while I'm here."

Emma swallowed. "Good. Then let's get you that potion, alright?"

Her room at Granny's was bigger than the one she was originally given. After the curse broke, it seemed ridiculous to have David find another place, so Emma happily moved out— there were traumatic childhood memories she would gladly miss even if that meant finding a place of her own. And of course, Granny refused to let her search for more than hour before demanding she take the family hostel in the back of the inn. It was smaller than a regular apartment— there was no divisor between the living room and kitchen— but at the rate Granny offered, there was no way she could say no. And as more time passed, Emma more and more frequently referred to this place as home— even if only in her head.

Emma stood fiddling with the keys as Hook stood behind her. She felt his heavy eyes resting on her back, like the pressure of being underneath warm sand. When the lock gave way, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him staring vaguely at the doorbell, as if he hadn't been looking at her at all. Maybe she was wrong.

They entered and immediately she went for the small hutch outside of the bathroom where she kept her medical supplies— cough syrup, gauze, head ache medicine, the like. She felt a void behind her and when she turned, Hook was lazily following up, looking around the room, studying as if to memorize. She was still living partially out of boxes so she wasn't exactly sure he was looking for. His eyes skirted up the walls, glancing into the living room. He turned and saw the cracked door to the bedroom. He grinned. Emma fought the distinct urge to slap him and hide her face. And he had been so decent on the way over . . .

Emma rolled her eyes— she was an adult, she had nothing to hide from the likes of him— and turned back to the cabinet. She was searching, pushing back pills and tape. It was such a distinct bottle. Where was it?

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink, love?"

"No." Emma growled, her hand in the far corners of the cabinet. "You're not staying here for long."

Hook shrugged and continued into the living room, still assessing. "Your loss. I'm a wonderful houseguest."

It suddenly occurred to Emma that she put the potion on top of the cabinet, out of sight and out of mind. She had figured that would have been safest place for it— even, apparently from herself. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a chair. Hook was lounging on the couch, quite pleased with himself.

"For someone so alone, you really have a home for two here." He said, shrugging, noting the two chairs at the table, the two-cushion loveseat, the tiny kitchen. Emma frowned, still dragging the chair into the other room.

"It's for Henry, when he comes to visit," she invented. Leave it to the far too perceptive pirate to pick up on things even she didn't realize about her lonely life.

Hook raised his eyebrows, glancing around once more, but his tight mouth said his mind was elsewhere. He stood up again and followed her into the other room.

"And where is young Henry right now?" He leaned against the doorframe as she set up the chair to stand on.

"1400 Not telling you street."

Hook sighed behind her. Emma was suddenly intuitively aware that he was staring at her butt as she climbed up to reach the top of the cabinet.

"Do you ever get tired of fighting me? Wouldn't it just be easier to talk to me?"

Emma scowled into the wood of the cabinet. "He's at school, okay? And for the record, you could be helping, you know?"

She could imagine the smirk in his voice. Thankfully, her hand grasped the vial and she turned to come down.

"Actually, love," his eyes traveled up and down her body in ways she _knew_ were wrong— there was no doubt about it. The same images of him and Ruby that had infiltrated her brain earlier than day flashed again. Only this time, Emma was on top of him— and they both loved it. "The view's fine from right here."

At that time, three things happened all at once: heat rose in Emma's head, making her faint; she tried to take a step forward but the heat caused her to misstep; Emma fell from the chair.

But she never hit the floor. She smelled the sea again and immediately fought every urge within her to sigh happily. He was padded and warm, and the fog began to take her brain again, stripping away every inhibition one by one.

The vial felt hard in her hand. "But your leg," Emma said, trying to right herself, "doesn't it hurt?"

She looked up and found sadness in his eyes. They searched her face, much like he searched her house— as if seeing it for the last time.

"Believe me, I am truly in pain," he murmured.

At that moment she realized she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by him, in every sense of the word. She was tired of fighting, of talking, of doing anything but kissing him like they both wanted her to do. She straightened up, but he wouldn't let her go, his hand around her waist, tight and firm, claiming.

She put her hands on his chest, his breathing turned hard and rapid, and his wonderful eyes shuttered close. He titled his head towards her—

But bad things were down that road. Bad people. Bad feelings. Things you couldn't take back. Things you couldn't _get_ back.

She pushed him away. He stumbled.

"I'm sorry . . . I can't." She slipped the vial into his jacket pocket and pushed him harder, towards the door. "Get out, Hook."

"Emma, wait, can we talk?" He turned the moment he was out the door, begging her. She moved to shut the door but he stuck his foot in the crack.

"I can't do this— no, we can't talk. I don't trust you." She leaned harder on the door, but his eyes froze her. His knuckles were wrapped around the frame. He was desperate to break down her door.

"Emma, we can't keep doing this forever."

She swallowed, sharp pricks biting the corner of her eyes. She felt anger bubble in her fingers. She wanted nothing more than to rip open the door and bury her face in his chest.

"No, Killian, please—," the plea sounded like a sob. It was disgusting to her ears. "Please, just leave me alone."

She pushed him again and he fell back, his blue eyes curious and hurt. She slammed the door after him.

He didn't knock again.

* * *

_*A/N Ha, this chapter is at least 1000 more words than the other one and you can't hate me for it. I'm writing this at my pace and because it feels good so all the voices in my head can just zip it! _

_Thanks to those who read and reviewed! You'd know I'd love more of that!_


	3. Chapter 3: Fireballs and Freaky People

**Chapter 3: Fireballs and Freaky People (The time she didn't trust him with a good game plan)**

* * *

If this was becoming a habit, Emma didn't like it.

She raced over the grassy roots of the forest surrounding Storybrooke, over stones and hills and through mud. Once again, she didn't care about her shoes, the pain in her side or the scrape on her arm where she did fall. She only cared about Henry. The grip on her father's sword tightened as she slid down a leaf-covered knoll and kept running. She vaguely wondered if there was ever a peaceful day in Storybrooke.

* * *

_Two hours ago:_

"Emma, are you ever going to tell me about Henry's father?"

She nearly swallowed the spoon from her cereal whole. "What?" She coughed.

Mary-Margaret bit her lip, gingerly twisting her mug in her white hands. "Well, do you know who he is, first of all?"

Emma, in all her time spent in jail and being a thief and running into multiple accounts of unexplainable situations, had never prayed so hard that the ground would open up and swallow her whole as she did now. She dropped the spoon into the bowl.

"Yes, I—I—I do, and I loved him _very_ much, but um, things didn't really work out between us—,"

"Does he know about Henry?"

Emma leapt up from her mother's counter, pushing the chair in front of her. "Okay, whoa, we're going to take this conversation to a screeching, fire-hazardous halt. Where did this come from and why do you want to talk about it now?"

Mary-Margret went a gentle shade of pink before shrugging into her tea. "We used to talk about this stuff all the time. Why can't we do it some more? Is it because I'm your mother and it's weird? Is this weird?"

"Oh my god, yes, this is weird! This is cursed-magical-one-night-stand talk with David all over again!"

"Hey! That was a curse! I had no idea I was cheating on my husband!" Mary-Margaret cried indignantly. She set her mug down and put her hand on her hip, giving a startling accurate "Mom's put out with you" face. Then her tiny hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Emma, was he married?"

"No! He wasn't married! He was—," Emma frowned, unable to confess to her fairytale princess mother that her grandson's father was a notorious car thief. "He was— well, not Prince Charming. Let's put it that way."

Mary-Margaret looked honestly hurt. She looked away. "I don't judge you, Emma. I never would. I would just like to know."

_For someone so alone, you really have a home for two here._

Emma sighed, rubbing her forehead. "His name was Neil. And he was a car thief. And he made me one too. And I went to jail for something he nicked in Arizona. In prison, that's when I found out I was pregnant. Not much of a fairytale if you ask me."

Mary-Margaret watched her with sad eyes. Without a word, she set down her mug and went around and hugged her daughter. "I would never judge you for finding love and the decisions you made. It's not your fault."

Emma swallowed the sharp prick in her throat and stepped back.

"So, seriously, what brought on the decision to torture me?"

Mary-Margaret's face twitched from sadness to a mask of nonchalance. She moved back around to pick up her mug, her ears pink

"Oh, it's nothing. It's a stupid idea anyway."

Emma sighed. "Mo— Mary-Margaret, what is it?"

"Look, now that I know, I would never ask this of you, but with Henry's birthday coming up, I just figured it would be nice to meet his father after all these years—," Emma groaned and leaned against the counter, "but, honestly, Emma, I would never, ever ask you that. It's too much right now."

_Believe me, I am truly in pain._

Emma internally shook her head, desperate to clear out any voices that might be flitting around there— voices that hadn't been quiet since the previous day. "I'm sorry. I really am. Let me get over the fact that my parents are Prince and Princess Charming and then we'll move on to digging up some very restless ghosts of my past, okay?"

Mary-Margaret took her by the hands, looking at her imploringly. "I just want you to be happy. You are happy, right?"

Emma nodded, lying openly to her good-hearted mother. She wasn't happy. Granted, she was much better off and much happier than she had been for the past twenty-eight years. But fighting every decision, every question about vulnerability— well, that got tiring after a while. But with Henry, and her family, she couldn't just quit or run away if things got hard. She wanted connection, real connection, and this is was how she got it. But these walls— these walls that choked her in the middle of the night with nightmares of an abandoned child on the side of the road— they kept her from reaching the end of the line. She couldn't touch them, her family, or anyone. She knew they would chase her to the end of the earth, but at some point, she had to step forward, she had to close the line. And this was why she wasn't happy. And she didn't see how to finally close the circuit. So would she ever be happy?

_If I were happy with myself, I'd still be in my apartment with Hook right now_.

She blinked, rocked by a sudden tidal wave of morality— and worry that her brain had made that connection. That freakin' pirate: he was a whole other story. Yes— no— maybe so? This was a game Emma could never, ever win. She took her mother's hands her own, forcing a connection, one Mary-Margret was eager to give, and gave so easily at that.

"Mary-Margaret, what was it like meeting David for the first time? You know, back in the Enchanted Forest? What did it feel like?"

Mary-Margaret broke out into a smile as if she were remembering the greatest day of her life. "Well—,"

The living room exploded.

Emma was thrown back, her head knocking against something hard. She felt her fingers go limp. Dust and rubble went into the air, furniture shattering like glass and fragments embedded themselves in the ceiling and walls. Plates fell from their place on the shelves and the rug was torn to shreds.

Emma coughed, trying to clear her head when a voice boomed above them.

"_You think you can banish me?_" It roared. "_You think you can finish me, delay me from my quest? __**How dare you**__!"_

Emma looked up through the haze and saw a bright purple orb floating in the center of the destruction. Cora's irate face glared back at her through the orb.

"_I am __**a Queen**__! I wield the magics! You and your pirate think you can deceive me— how wrong you are! When I find that wretched man, I will peel the skin from him limb-by-limb, inch-by-inch! But I will deal with you first— by taking the one thing you love most!"_

A raging red fireball rocked from the small orb and blasted passed Emma. It blew through the door, ripping the door from its hinges as it went.

"_Now, run, little Swan, run to save your child! Run while you still can!_"

Emma inhaled all the dust in the air, her throat suddenly dry. The orb flickered and faded, dragging Cora's laughing with it. It died completely and Emma took one look at her mother.

"Go," Mary-Margret gasped. She was trying to right herself against the counter wall. "His sword is underneath the table."

Emma leapt to her feet, ignoring the cool trail of blood running down her arm, and bounded to the overturned table. David's sword was taped to the bottom of it. Her palms sweaty, Emma ripped it free and without a second glance back.

* * *

_Now: _

She leapt over puddles and through mud, grime and filth splashing up onto her legs. The sword was in hindrance in her fear, making her movements bulky and slow— much too slow. But it was her only weapon to protect herself from whatever was coming after her son.

It was a Wednesday and every Wednesday, Archie and Henry went on a walk. Henry obviously didn't psychiatric therapy any more, as his "delusions" all appeared to be true. But they walked as friends through the forest and today was no different. It was only a matter of time before she found them— but would it be too late?

Her panic mounting, Emma pushed deeper into the forest, her cheeks cold from the fall air, but her back was wet from the run. But she went along any way, ignoring the pain until she found her son.

What she saw instead was a white streak in the trees ahead and the sound of a dog barking.

"Pongo?" Emma gasped and stumbled to a halt. She put her hands on her knees. "Pongo! Where are you?"

The animated Dalmatian tumbled into the clearing, panting and barking, clearly looking for help.

"Where are they, boy? Take me to Archie."

The dog gave her a reproachful glance, as Emma was much more out of breath than he was. But he turned and darted off into the forest. Desperately gasping in clean pockets of air as fast as she could, Emma took off after the dog, her knees cracking as she climbed up a soggy mount of branches.

They went over two hills, then three, and then Emma saw Archie's bright red hair from amongst some bramble. Pongo was barking frantically next to his master's side.

"Archie!" Emma yelped and slid down next to the doctor. She shook his shoulder and saw a brilliant long cut on his face. His shoulder was bruised. "Archie! Wake up!"

His green eyes flickered open. "What? What's wrong?"

"Where's Henry? Did something take him?"

The doctor blinked furiously as the memories rushed back to him. He nodded vigorously. He tried to stand but he swayed too far. Emma helped him steady.

"Something came out of nowhere and knocked me out. The last thing I saw was Henry being carried off."

Emma forced her brain forward, desperate to ignore the tightening of her heart. "Was it flying or running or—,"

"It was running, but it had wings, Emma, big wings! And— and three heads—a goat, a lion and a lizard— it was horrible!"

"Which way did it go, Archie?"

Archie's eyes turned sour with horror. "No, no, Emma, you can't go alone! It's too dangerous."

She took him by the shoulders. "It has my son. There is no way in hell I'm not going after it."

Archie sighed, searching her before finally shaking his head. "You Charming family . . . it ran off in that direction." He pointed to the far left. "Emma, please be careful."

"I will. Get word to David, if Mary-Margret already hasn't. Then make sure she's alright."

"Alright? Emma, what happened?"

"I'll tell you later." Emma took off in the direction he pointed. "It'll make for a great story."

* * *

She was deep in the forest now. She had no idea the town line went this far. She began to wonder if she had fallen into some sort of trap Cora had created— a maze of forest that she could never escape— but it didn't matter. She had to find Henry. And she knew he was close. Just out of reach, out of sight, so—

There came a terrible screech and out of instinct, Emma threw herself to the ground. It came from just on the other side of the ridge she was climbing. She heard a _crack_ and a t_hump_, like trees falling over. Quietly, Emma crawled to the top of the ridge and looked down. In a small, bowl-like clearing, a giant monster with three heads circled her son. He was crouched down, clutching his storybook to his chest in fear. The monster roared again, its massive tail knocking down several trees in its path. It flexed its massive black wings, Henry's hair flying back. It hissed and he shuddered. It patrolled the circle around him, sniffing, scratching and pushing rocks out of the way with its goat head. This was the creature Cora summoned to kill her son and it looked like it was making itself at home.

Emma rolled onto her back, her mind spinning at a million miles per hour. The ogre, you had to stab it through the eye to kill it; that was the only way. Did this thing have a special "self-destruct" button too? As childish as it sounded, Emma really wished her mother were here.

Carefully, she poked her head out over the ridge again. It appeared to have all of its motor functions working: all six eyes surveying the land for intruders; all three noses were wet, twitching, cold, and black; and all four paws were armed with razor sharp claws. Emma had seen _Hercules _enough times to know that cutting off the head would probably only cause more trouble. _So that leaves the heart_— Emma thought with determination. And if there was any justice in the world, the heart would be located where a heart was supposed to be located. With that "reassuring" plan in her mind, Emma crawled to her feet and stumbled down the ridge.

Henry looked on the verge of tears as she got closer. She hid behind a tree and waited. _Don't worry, kid, I'm coming_.

She picked up a particularly large rock and, praying that luck had decided to be on her side that day, stepped into the clearing and hurled it straight at the goat head.

The creature roared vigorously, the scream so unearthly it sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah, yeah, you big ugly, cry all you want." Emma scoffed, twirling the sword in her hands in such a manner that would have made her father proud. Henry looked up, his eyes wide in fear and relief as they fell on Emma. The monster turned and snapped at her, its thick tail lashing about. "You may be one big mother, but I'm coming to take my son. And you can't stop me."

The lion head hissed, its fangs whiter than ivory. The goat brayed like the devil and the dragon snapped its jaws. Emma smirked.

"Promise this will only take a minute."

One massive claw swung for her. Emma easily ducked. The other claw came down and she rolled out of the way. The creature shrieked and its giant tail smashed the ground. The dragon head lunged forward but Emma sliced it away with a slash of her sword. Another claw, another dive.

"Mom! Be careful!"

Emma rolled again, tumbling into a crouch. The monster snarled again, having clearly forgotten Henry.

"Henry, I want you to run in a second," Emma said, not taking her eyes away from the dragon's golden slits. "When I say go, I want you to go back to town. Keep running and don't look back."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You're gonna do what I say, because I'm your mother, got it?"

The lion roared and another claw launched towards her again. Emma dodged and stabbed right through it with her sword. The scream the monster made was hideous.

"Henry! Go now!" Emma yelled. She wrenched the sword free just as Henry darted towards the bottom of the ridge.

The goat brayed again and the tail as thick as a tree slammed down into the ground in front of him. Earth flew everywhere and Henry tumbled back.

"Henry!" Emma lunged forward, but the monster jerked back, blocking her out. It moved surprisingly fast, arching itself in front of the ridge's wall and Emma. The dragon's throat grumbled greedily as if laughing at her.

"Okay," Emma growled, her eyes sliding into frustrated slits, "today is really not the day to piss me off."

The massive tail thumped, its black wings flexing and the lion roared. Emma raised her sword to charge and—

The goat head turned, bayed hideously and blew a gulp of fire straight at her face.

Emma tried to slow down— her feet slid on the wet, earthen floor— the blaze was coming too close too fast— she felt the heat on her cheeks—

Something knocked her to the side, just as the fire blew by her. A second body collided with hers and the two rolled through the clearing and down behind an over-turned, moss-covered tree.

She had never been so happy to see David in her life.

"Oh my God, I was really running out of ideas back there! I am so glad to—,"

But the voice that answered was most certainly not her father's. Hook glared down at her, almost out of breath.

"Alright, first of all," he held up a single finger, panting slightly, "did you really try to have a conversation with a chimera?" A second, dirt smattered finger went up. "And two . . . by the look on your face, I'm guessing you didn't know they breath fire . . . which brings me to my third point, why the hell did you think you could kill one by yourself?"

Emma gaped. He was still breathing heavy. His voice sounded like his mouth was dry. Honestly, out of all the people she expected to find in this clearing, it was definitely not him. She half-expected Regina to be behind this somehow. Hook, for the first time since the previous day, had been out of her head the moment Henry's life was endanger. And now . . . now, he looked a little put out that she hadn't waited for him.

"What are you doing here?" That was a sentence, a reasonable sentence to ask. And that was pretty much all Emma could muster. The weight of him rested heavily on her hips and it was doing things— odd things— to her brain. Fortunately he didn't seem to notice.

"Clearly being a better Charming than his daughter," Hook scowled and climbed off of her. Air rushed back into her lungs, clearing her head. She sat up and listened to the monster roar in anguish. "I'm saving the bloody princess, aren't I?"

"I do _not_ need saving." Emma snapped. Hook rolled his eyes, but carefully leaned against the fallen tree. He watched the chimera snap and hiss. He searched for the little boy. Emma's Henry was still unconscious. "I'm serious, Hook, don't think this means anything."

Emma was furious. For not knowing that a "chimera", or whatever it is, breathed fire. For failing to get to Henry in time.

For needing freakin' Hook to save her.

For being grateful that Hook saved her.

She shook her head and moved to stand up, but with a well-placed push from her savior, she fell right back down again.

"Please tell me you have a better plan of attack then running right at the beast." Hook muttered, still watching the chimera thrash in its great wake.

"And please tell me you have something better to do than wait around until you think I need saving." Emma glared at the spot below his earlobe. She was caught off-guard when he turned and she was suddenly swallowed by those blue eyes.

"Do you want to save your son or not? I'm not here to hurt you, Emma, and I'm not trying to hurt Henry either. We can sit here and discuss why I saved you or you can close that pretty little mouth of yours, be grateful, and prevent your son from being flambéed. Your choice."

Emma ground her teeth together, sending every ounce of loathing she could through her eyes, before sliding next to him to get a better look at the chimera.

"Well, do you have any bright ideas?" She mumbled. She felt him laugh next to her.

"Thought you'd never ask, love." He rolled until they both faced forward, eyes poking out over the tree. "Now let me give you a little lesson in bestiary—,"

Emma felt her ears turn scarlet. She whipped around to face him. Hook rolled his eyes.

"The study of animals, specifically mythical ones, love. Even peasant children in my land know about chimeras."

Her ears still flaming, she turned back around. She felt his eyes on her butt again. "So what's so special about these freakin' . . . 'chalupas'?"

"_Chimeras_, darling, chimeras." Hook shifted, this time closer to her. She felt his arm press against her shoulder. He pointed over the fallen trunk. "See that ruddy tale of his? Notice how there are four spikes when there are five holes?"

Emma nodded. She smelled sea salt again.

"Chimeras only have five shots of fire in them. After each one, a spike falls out and it can't breath fire again until they regrow. Now, I don't know about you, but somehow I feel our odds of survival are higher if that beast can't roast us alive, savvy?"

Emma nodded again. "And how do you plan on making it use up all of its fire?"

"By doing what I do best," Hook stood up, clearing himself of dirt and looking outrageously pleased, "being an annoyingly handsome blighter. I'll distract the beast and you kill it."

Emma frowned, her eyes narrowing. "This sounds suspiciously like the last time we teamed up."

"Oh, and do remind me who ended up chained and abandoned at the top of a bloody beanstalk?" His eyes flashed darkly.

Emma swallowed and looked away.

"If this is a repeat of our previous adventures, then you've got nothing to loose, love. You've only got me to hurt." He extended his good hand. Emma watched it reproachfully, her stare traveling from his calloused hand, up his long arm and into the eyes that saw right through her every vice. "Come on, we'll make a hero out of you yet."

She took his hand and pulled her to her feet. There was the forming of a smile across his weather-beaten lips but he gave her a gentle push towards the clearing. "Now, go, your boy is waking up and he needs his mother. I'll be there in a moment."

Her hip felt warm where his hand had been moments ago. Her brain flopped and she vigorously shook it to force it to work again.

The chimera raised its three heads as Emma entered into the clearing again. The dragon glared at her with a teasing snarl that asked, "Ready for round two?"

"You betcha your scaly ass I'm ready for round two." Emma grumbled, to no one in particular. Behind her, Hook had vanished and she wondered vaguely if he had abandoned her just to teach her a lesson.

"Mom?" Henry called. He was sitting up, rubbing his head. His face was cut. Emma's heart contracted and all other thoughts melted away. She stepped forward with purpose.

"Mom's coming, Henry." She raised the sword. The chimera shuffled to face her—

And a spear-like branch grazed the goat head. The creature roared, its massive body hurling to face its new attacker. Hook grinned from one of the trees that surrounded the clearing.

"I'm not much for small talk." He spun another spear in his hands before hurling it at the beast again. This one pierced one of the wings. The chimera screeched and beat its tail. The goat head's nostrils began to smoke. "My name's Killian and I'll be killing you today."

The dragon head lunged forward, snapping with its massive jaws but Hook was way beyond its reach. Hook shook his head sadly.

"Oh, not even close, darling, how embarrassing."

Its black claws jittered on the ground, all six eyes trained on Hook as if for revenge. Without warning, the chimera spun, its wide tail blasting through the air like a wrecking ball. It blew through the tree where Hook sat moments ago. However, he was on a new tree, on a new level, moving faster than a blink of an eye.

"Up here, that's it, stretch!"

The three heads howled in fury and out came the massive black wings, but because of the spear, it screamed again, only this time in pain. Emma's eyebrows rose in amazement: Hook had grounded the chimera. _Wish I had thought of that_.

"Now, you're going to have to do a bit better than that." Hook's legs swung from the tree branch and his arm, propping up his jaw, rested coolly on his knee. "Come on, I'm bored already."

The chimera screamed and flapped at the air uselessly. Its entire attention was on Hook. Emma spotted Henry, his eyes wide. He glanced at Hook before motioning towards his mother. She took one more look at the taunting Hook before darting forward.

Hook saw the blonde hair move out of the corner of his eye. He took out one of the small stones from his pocket.

"Here, there's something for your troubles." He launched one of the rocks into the eye of the goat and it bleat and a great wave of flame rushed towards him. He swung to a lower branch. "This is just adorable, really."

The dragon roared and thumped its tail. Emma watched one of the spikes fall. Unfortunately, the ridge was growing weak under the strain of the concussions. Tiny rocks dislodged from the top of the mount and tumbled down the side. Henry gave the ridge a worried glance.

_It's not enough time_.

Emma threw Henry an apologetic glance before sighing and standing up from behind her boulder.

"Hey! Lizard face!" She ran to the side, waving the sword. "Over here!"

The chimera spun, its tail lashing again. It reached with one of its claws, but she was too far away. Hook nailed it again with a stone.

"Oi! You big git! Bite me!"

The chimera snapped in frustration and the goat blew out a sword of fire, in all directions. Emma threw herself to the ground to avoid being consumed but she swore she recognized the scent of burning hair.

_Two to go . . ._

Somehow, Hook had landed on the ground. He waved his arms, trying to drag its attention away from Emma.

"What part of 'I distract and you kill' did you miss, lass?" Hook yelled over the creature's shrieks.

"The part where it was taking too long."

The tail beat on the ground again. Larger rocks began to fall. Henry was caught between the trashing tail and the crumbling stones. Emma knew she had to make a decision fast— and it required putting her son's life in Hook's hands.

Maybe not, probably not— she could be fast for the both of them. Hook was still taunting the beast, leading it up the ridge. But it still wouldn't move.

"C'mon, you sad excuse for a bloody dragon, come after me!"

Emma's pistol felt heavy in her hands as she cocked the weapon. Henry was near the edge of the ridge, away from the rocks but closer to Hook— and the approaching chimera.

Emma took a gulp of air, her feet feeling surprisingly light. _Here goes nothing . ._ .

Without warning, Emma charged the beast. She dodged its flailing tail. Hook saw her coming over the chimera's scaly shoulder.

"Emma— stop— what are you doing?"

The beast turned, screaming into the sky. It took a step forward, its chest exposed. Something inside it rattled, as if it was internally heating. The goat screeched, throwing its head back—

Emma unloaded three bullets into its throat. Smoke poured from the holes, the goat screaming. Emma threw the gun aside and dropped to the ground, the sword held in front of her like an iron iceberg. She caught the soft underbelly and ripped through it like butter. Chimera innards that smelled like rancid milk and looked like week old guacamole poured down onto Emma as she slid right under the beast. She flew out the other side and collided with a bolder.

The body shuddered, the heads swaying and knocking about before the great beast cracked beneath its own weight and tumbled to the ground. Emma had just enough time to look up and find Henry's smile— before a landslide broke free and tore down the ridge, right over Henry. She swore she saw a shadow cross over him— perhaps the Angel of death— before the rocks fell.

"HENRY! NO!" Emma screamed.

She heard Hook's laugh. She whipped around and saw him covered in dirt and clutching Henry against his chest. He had grabbed him and rolled out of the way. Henry was ogling at the crushed rock, clearly convinced he was about to die as much as Emma was. But Hook only grinned, aiming his heart-aching smile towards Emma.

"After everything we've been through together, you still doubt me?"

Henry's eyes flickered to his mother. "Mom?"

"Oh my God, Henry . . ."

The boy leapt to his feet and scrambled over to her. Emma sat up immediately, her arms wide but a foot from a hug, Henry stopped. His button nose wrinkled.

"You smell like garbage cat."

Emma laughed, suddenly realizing she was out of breath. She ran her hands over her face to clear off some of the muck.

"Yeah, it's not like I wanted any thanks for saving your life."

Henry twisted his mouth, as if wondering about the consequences of what he was about to say. "As much as I appreciate the fact that you're all covered in monster gut-goo for my sake, it was actually Hook who saved my life."

He turned to look over his shoulder. Emma, feeling a hot wave rising in her cheeks, followed her son's gaze. Hook was sitting up, a large rip in his sleeve, panting. He felt them looking and waved away their stares.

"Oh, look, gratitude. Coming _only_ from the second Charming family member I saved today."

Henry frowned at her. "He saved you too?"

Hook's eyebrow quirked up at her over Henry's shoulder. Emma sighed and climbed to her feet. "That's debatable. Now let's get you home, I'm sure everyone is frantic. Cora kinda ended our living room."

"Cora! I knew it! She's definitely coming back!"

The expression on Hook's face darkened.

"Do you think that's true, Emma? She's found a way to come here?"

"I think she's got friends in other worlds that will help her to send her enemies a message. That's how the chimera got here. We're certainly not done with her."

"Then we have to go warn David and Mary-Margaret! And the rest of the town!"

"I said she had friends, kid, not favors. I think it'll take her a while to send something like that over here again." She wouldn't meet Hook's eye. "Now go get your book, what you can find of it any way. And grab my sword, if you can find it."

Henry nodded and ran off. Hook watched him go and was taken aback when Emma had suddenly gotten very close.

"You saved my son." It wasn't a question, or thanks. It was a moment of genuine surprise and awe. "Why?"

His eyes lit up as a smile curved his lips. He was filthy from dirt and blood but somehow the look suited him. His black hair hung down over a sweaty forehead, as he glanced to the ground, shrugging.

"Because of a promise I made, to a swan princess." He muttered. " '_No danger can come to them while you're here_', don't you remember?"

Emma was totally and utterly floored. "I meant from you— I meant you can't hurt them—,"

He grinned. Slowly he picked a chunk of monster glob out of her hair, chuckling to himself. "My mistake, love. I guess I'm not one to read the fine print. So let's just call this a favor then. You owe me."

"No, no, no, no, I am in no way indebted to you!"

Hook made sure Henry's back was turned before leaning in. "Come on, Emma, darling, it'll be fun. I can already think of a hundred ways to repay me, and I promise you, you'll relish them too—,"

Emma pushed him by the shoulders as hard as she could. He stumbled back, biting his lip as he went. "Henry's right— you do smell like cat sick."

Her ears flaming, Emma whirled around. "Henry— we're leaving . . . now!"

Her son, clutching the drenched sword and his book, nodded and leapt into the same walk. Just as they reached the top of the ridge, Mary-Margaret and David tumbled down into the clearing, dressed to the tee in weapons, both projectile and static.

"We're here! Where's the beast?" David asked heroically.

"Dead." Emma pointed to the base of the ridge. Both her parents' mouths tumbled open.

"And you killed it? All by yourself?" Mary-Margaret asked, astonished.

"No!" Henry said. "Captain Hook helped! He saved my life!"

"WHAT?"

"Yeah! Ask him yourself! He's right—,"

All four heads turned to find the pirate in question, but he was gone.

* * *

Later that night, after food and a long shower (not necessarily in that order) and David and Henry had gone to sleep, Emma laid on the couch, her head on Mary-Margaret's lap. Her mother ran her fingers through Emma's blonde hair, mumbling happily. Emma was trying to stay awake to listen to her mother's story, but she couldn't. However, she did catch one sentence before drifting off to sleep:

"When I met your father, it was magical."

_Strike three, Captain, Strike three._

* * *

_*A/N these seem to get longer as the chapters go on. But this one was mostly action packed. So the others probably won't be this long. But seriously, what do you guys think of it? Lemme know!_


	4. Chapter 4: Satin as Soft as Cream

**Chapter 4: Satin as Soft as Cream **

_The sweetest submission,_

_Drinking it in,_

_The wine, the women,_

_The bedroom hymns_

-Florence Welch

* * *

The white dress Henry picked out at the costume shop rode up on her butt in a funny way. She tried to address it as discreetly as she could, given the fact that she was in the spotlight of the whole restaurant as David, sitting only a chair over from her, made his speech. It was Henry's birthday and he sat at the head of the table, a plastic crown placed eloquently on his messy hair. The townsfolk watched their prince with adoration in their eyes and Emma glanced at their people.

In true "Henry" fashion, he asked all who attended his party to dress up as their true selves, the people and creatures they were back in their home. "You don't have to hide any more," he had said once most of the guests had gotten there. "We won't turn you away for who you are."

As their living room had been blown to shambles by the misadventures of Cora, Emma suggested holding the party somewhere else— "like at the Italian restaurant near the edges of town". Henry was ecstatic, mostly because of the large open ballroom at the very heart of the restaurant; "It'll be like real ball and everything!"

However, he wouldn't let Emma pick out a princess gown to match her parents. He frowned and disappeared for a bit and came back with a simple white dress, caps over the shoulders for sleeves and strappy heels to match. When she asked why, he looked at her with a small mischievous smile.

"It's my birthday, you can't say no."

Emma often wondered how this kid was hers, especially now that he was giving a speech of his own, about acceptance and love coming not only from family but friends as well. They were all his family, he said. At that, Mary-Margaret leaned over to David and whispered, "he's going to make a great king one day" with tears in her eyes.

After dinner, the local string quartet began to play and Emma had the first dance with her son. Graciously and her heart practically bursting with pride, she let him lead her to the dance floor. They swayed and he showed her the progress he'd made in his dance lessons with David. Emma laughed, feeling free for the first time in a long, long time. He had to stand on his toes to spin his mother under his arm. Everyone laughed softly at that.

"You're a good kid, you know that, right?" Emma asked quietly, once everyone else had joined on the dance floor.

Henry stopped dancing and hugged her tightly. "And you're a good mom. Not many can say they saved their sons from a chimera."

Emma laughed. "Yeah, and I'm still picking monster guts out of my hair."

Henry paused and bit his lip. He looked up at his mother worriedly. "Are you sure I'm a good kid?"

Emma frowned. "Of course, Henry, what—,"

At that moment, the doors opened discreetly at the far end of the ballroom and just by the swift movements of his shoulders and the tip of his feathered hat, she knew it was him. He took off the hat and cloak to reveal his original pirate garb. He was dressed to the nines and she caught his open chest through the thin material. Hook dropped his hat and cloak off against a chair at an empty table. He straightened up, adjusting the flow of his sleeves as he scanned the crowd through the dimly lit room. Emma stopped moving all together.

"So are you _sure_ I'm still a good kid?"

"Henry," she breathed. "Why did you invite him?"

"I wanted to say thank you for saving me. Because technically, while you stopped the chimera, he saved me from being crushed by a bunch of rocks. And you were a little preoccupied."

Emma took her son by the shoulders, hiding them both in the crowd. "He's a dangerous guy, Henry. He could hurt anybody at this party."

Henry shook his head firmly. "I made him pinky promise that he wouldn't hurt anyone. Besides, he wouldn't go back on the deal he made with you, the swan princess."

Emma narrowed her eyes, internally furious at her eavesdropping child. "So you heard that, didn't you?"

"I was busy picking up your weapon and my book, not busy being deaf."

Emma glanced over the heads of the crowd again. She felt her heart freeze when she didn't find him in the corner any more.

"And besides, it's my birthday so you can't say no." With that, he scampered off into the crowd.

Emma felt weak on her knees. "I need a drink."

* * *

She smiled when Henry danced with Mary-Margaret.

She smiled when Blue and the fairies did their magic show.

She smiled when Ruby and Granny brought out the cream cake and Henry made a wish with the candles. She hoped it was a good one. She didn't take a piece, but for reasons other than her anxiety.

But she was being watched and she knew it. She silently begged that he would just jump out like he always did, and they could get this— whatever it was he wanted because she _just knew_ he wanted something— over with.

Finally, near midnight, Emma's strained nerves couldn't take it any more. She grabbed a full glass of champagne and without anyone knowing, slipped off to the recesses of the restaurant. She walked until a fluttering curtain offered an escape. She pulled back the red curtain and found a lone balcony, overlooking the city. There was a small glass table with two chairs there, but angrily she shoved them aside and leaned up against the iron railing.

It was a moment, then a beat and a silence, and she relaxed. Someone had hung white Christmas lights on the roof above the balcony and it gave the area a dull glow, as though the sun had kissed the room before going to bed. She took a sip of champagne and the tension unwound from under her skin.

Why did he get to her this way? Why was she avoiding him? Why did he feel the need to torture her? Why did he have to be the one who saved Henry?

She breathed, a single Hook-free moment, and drank in the cool night air until it calmed the raging in her chest.

A shadow moved behind her, blocking the light from the room beyond the balcony, and Emma knew it was him, even before he spoke, before she caught the scent of mint and sea salt in the breeze, before he sidled up next to her. His posture matched her own, leaning slightly against the iron fence of the terrace. He was silent, gazing out over the lights of the town as if she wasn't there. In his ringed hand, he held a piece of cream cake, the kind that gave her irrational hives. Propping it up against the railing, he poked at it dryly, before cutting a piece, framing it perfectly within his thin mouth and sucking it free from the fork. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his throat muscles swallow the spongy cake. His Adam's apple moved and Emma flung her gaze out into the night air, warmth spreading up her neck.

The draped lights above them reflected in his rings, drawing her attention to his fingers, his fingers that had done much— fingers that loved and killed equally. Fingers that could do things to her— if only she asked—

Emma threw back a gulp of champagne, determined to fight remain upright despite the fact that she could no longer feel her knees. Hook watched her finish her drink in a most un-lady-like manner, the corners of his smooth lips threatening to turn up. She caught him grinning like a wolf, his eyes dark despite the lights above them.

"You look ridiculous." She grumbled at him, slurping up the last bit of drink. A rivulet of the champagne escaped her mouth and it ran down her jaw, then her neck. She angrily wiped it away. She found him staring again, but this time right at her throat. She felt exposed as if she knew his sudden impulse to bite down there sharply. Maybe this little white dress was a little too _little _. . .

"At least, I'm not flouncing about with giant poufy sleeves."

Emma frowned. Hook scraped off another piece of cake and thoughtfully chewed it down. When she gave no answer, he nodded over his shoulder to the rest of the party.

"Your father seems like a wonderful man. But I'm afraid to tell you, the man has no sense of style."

Emma remembered David's ecstatic smile when he found the "Prince Charming" costume at the local store. No one had the heart to tell him that it made him resemble the Michelin Man.

She snorted, leaning forward onto her forearms against the gate. "And you, Mr. Feathered Hat and Neo Jacket, you have style?"

"_Neo Jacket_? What in the bloody hell is that?"

Emma chuckled to herself, the champagne suddenly bubbling under her skin. "I forgot. You've never seen _The Matrix_. You've never seen any movie."

The night air was cool. The breeze returned, like a hand of a child asking to play.

"I'd like to, some time. But I heard these movies are better enjoyed in the presence of others. I've also heard that if food comes along with these moving pictures, it's often considered a date." He sucked a bit of frosting from the fork, his tongue moving lazily up and down the metal sides. His glance slid over to Emma, as if to see if she was watching. "What do you think about that?"

It was an interesting sensation, to be jealous of a kitchen instrument. But Emma shook her head.

"I'd say 'move it along, Hook', you're barking up the wrong tree." She looked at him, her head turned. "What is it about you? Why can't you get it through your head?"

Hook shrugged, rocking back a bit on his heels before taking another bite of cake. "I don't know. That near-kiss in your apartment said differently. While we're at it, let's look at why we were there in the first place. Right, because you hate to see me in pain. You have to face facts, Emma darling, you care about me."

"I'm the sheriff. I have to care about people."

Hook huffed and stood up. He put the half-eaten cake on the glass stand near the railing. "Yes, well, here's the catch, love. I'm a sodding pirate and I don't have to care about anyone." He tipped back over, turning towards her and resting one arm on the railing. He took his hook like he would a second hand. "And ready for the better part? I care about _you._ A lot about you, actually . . . and your happiness, and how you feel, what you want, and mostly, what you feel about _me_."

Emma leaned away from him, her lower back resting on the railing. She crossed her arms. Her heart fluttered painfully against her chest, but she would never let him know that. She simply shrugged.

"What about Milah? The reason you're here?"

At that, Hook visibly shrunk away, all assurance gone. He wrapped his hand and hook around the panels of the railing. The wind blew his hair and made him look fifteen years younger in the blink of an eye.

"I'm not a stupid man, Emma. A man who love too fiercely and too blindly, yes, but I know what happens to the pour souls who chase ghosts, who can love only in the past. She—she— will never leave me, never entirely, but I know she'd want me to be happy. And I've been so unhappy, for so long . . ." he trailed off, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry." Emma said, after a moment. She was also grasping the railing as though it held her up. She twisted her palms around the metal. "I know how much she means to you. I shouldn't have brought her up."

"Love is pain, darling," he said softly, "there's no escaping it. Just find the right mate and you can only prolong it."

"That's a grim outlook on life, coming from the adventurous, lady's-man-pirate." Emma's mouth threatened to smile.

"Says the lass who chained a potential ally to a beanstalk."

"C'mon, you had it coming. The eyeliner thing doesn't scream 'trust me, I'm full of warm, fuzzy feelings'. Also, the fact that you're kind of the most notorious pirate in my land threw me off."

"The _most_ notorious?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Can it, Hook. I can feel your ego expanding from over here."

Hook smirked. " 'The most notorious pirate', hmm, I think I can work with that."

He picked up the cake again and scooped out a large chunk happily. Emma watched him as he licked his lips clean.

"How do you ingest that stuff?"

Hook shrugged, eyeing the food carefully. "Aye, it would go better with some rum, but it surely fine as it is. Why? You don't like it?"

Emma shook her head, leaning back and still pulling on the railing. "I was seven, in this foster home that already had way too many kids. It was the youngest one's birthday and he screamed for days about how he wanted nothing but cream cake. And then, when he finally got it, he hated the taste. But the parents had already dropped like three hundred dollars on this present. So for literally a week, I ate nothing but that freakin' cake. Brings back bad memories every time I'm around it."

"That's a terrible story, darling." Hook said sadly. "But honestly, you're really missing out."

Emma sighed wistfully. "It does look good, I'll admit."

He slowed in pulling the fork out of his mouth, a strange thought dawning in his head.

"You said you hadn't tried it again since, yes?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So you don't know if you don't like it? You just fear it?"

"Hey, I'm not afraid of some stupid cake, pal!"

"Then try it."

He stood up and she let go of the railing.

"No, I know I don't like it. It's too rich and creamy and—,"

"You fear it, and what it brings. You fear memories, of painful ones. This cake is divine and you're passing it up because of fear."

Emma raised her eyebrow. "_Divine_? Thanks for the tip, Ms. Deen."

"Don't change the subject, love. I want you to taste this cake."

"Hook, you're being ridiculous."

"And you're living in fear of _what if_." He placed the fork into her hand, and brought the plate to her other hand. "You can't fear a ghost forever."

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, the idea that the cake meant something more to him briefly crossing her mind. But he seemed intent on this. In fact, he was almost begging.

Nearly angry, she grabbed the plate from him. Making eye contact with Hook the whole time, she jabbed the fork into the spongy cake, icing included, and stuck it into her mouth.

She blinked and glanced down.

She had found Jesus. In processed-sugar form.

"Oh my God," she moaned from between her teeth. "This is delicious."

He smirked at her. "I haven't been here long enough to be sure, but I believe the phrase is, 'I told you so'."

"Well, now, it's your loss because I'm going to eat the rest of it." She jutted her chin into the air as she leaned back against the railing, still eating what was left of the cake.

He leaned back with her, his arms resting in between the panels. However, he watched her intently. She glanced at him only once and immediately realized how dirty eating could be. She quickly popped the last bit of cake into her mouth, now staring solely at the floor.

"Emma," he murmured. _Don't look at him, don't look at him, dontlookathim!_ "I think I'd like to hand in that favor now."

She nearly choked on the cake in her mouth. She swallowed it whole, vigorously shaking her head— _bad idea, very bad idea_!

"Not to worry, love, it'll only take a moment."

Swiftly, he took the plate from her. She felt warmth spread from where their fingers touched at the bottom up to her cheeks. Oh God, what was he going to make her do? There was a limit— of what he could do— or she could do— _oh please not on the balcony_! Maybe he wanted money, _pirates love money_, and he was just going to ask her for reimbursement for saving Henry. Her toes curled inside of the white heels, she awaited her fate.

But when he looked back up at her, through dark lashes and with eyes heated and dark as an aquifer, she knew money wasn't on his mind. He straightened up and took a step forward. In response, Emma slid back and bumped up against the iron railing. She had half a mind to ditch the damn shoes and jump over it— broken bones be damned.

He grinned, raising a calloused hand to her cheek. Gently, he rubbed his thumb against the corner of her mouth and with fingers leaving a trail like embers, he drew back his hand and adeptly sucked on his thumb, his eyes beckoning.

"Had a bit of cake right there." Hook muttered. This time, when he stepped into her again, she didn't move. His hook locked onto a metal rung of the gate, it clinked and for some reason, Emma shuddered. Unconsciously, she thought of handcuffs, the location of a pair she knew exactly. But the memory of the handcuffs and frankly any other thought dissipated from her mind as Hook pressed himself against her. She knew she should be worried about where his other hand was but the scent of sea salt and sweet cream overpowered her. He was so close.

"Now, Emma, I want to kiss you—," he began. Emma swallowed, blinking rapidly, and shook her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but he took her wrist and placed her hand gently on his chest. "I want to kiss you, on your neck. This is your debt to me, alright?"

Her hear thumping erratically in her chest, beyond all reason, all what the past had taught her, beyond all the lessons she learned the hard way, Emma nodded. The blue in his eyes caught in the lights above, making them glow and she thought of gold, and princesses and princes and fairy tales and true love. The fingers on his chest were inches away from the black hair on his exposed skin. The white on her nails became near translucent in contrast.

Hook's hand, still clasping her wrist as one would hold a cherished item, began to move. The pads of his fingers brushed down her forearm, skin teasing skin, touched her elbow, and regretfully trailed away, up to her shoulder. He watched his hand move, as though enthralled by the image of their contact, as though it was a dream made real, as though her flesh was as every bit as soft as he hoped. He sighed woefully, as he skimmed the crux of her neck and shoulder, a single finger brushing her nape.

When his eyes fell into hers, Emma wondered vaguely where the ground had gone, to where time and space had escaped because, for all she felt and knew, they were simply floating in light. His eyes, like twilight, twinkled with the hint of stars, of the Milky Way against the flash of the moon.

His hand stopped somewhere near her throat. Her earlobe felt the heat off his thumb and it drove her absolutely mad. His fingers threatened to knot in her hair, as they drummed on the back of her neck.

Very slowly, he smiled, his thin lips turning, the stubble stretching, and bent forward, gently guiding her head to turn. Briefly, she wondered if he was going to bite her there, his breath hovering and gliding up and down her exposed throat. It ran warm, like a wolf's, curling up into the soft patch of skin under her ear and rolling, as if he controlled it, down onto her cold chest. Above her, she stared at the white lights as if they promised oblivion, but it could only come if he was there to give it to her.

He whispered something, or maybe it was a sigh, or a gasp of frustration— Emma couldn't tell. She was drinking him in, his body so close and his scent swallowing her like waves crashing against warm sand. Every bit of her body was singing to him, begging him to hurry, to be braver than she could be.

She breathed in, her chest heaving, and she smelled burnt caramel, and mint julep, and an oceanic scent, of salt and cold and iron and metal and soaked wood and wet kelp. Her bosom pressed against his chest and she felt him inhale sharply.

"Hook—," she murmured. She wasn't sure if that was a request or a plight.

And he kissed her, there on the vein of her neck.

She gasped, as if someone had put ice on her throat instead, but his lips were warm and needy and quiet. She gasped and she felt him stiffen. He pulled her to him, tighter, as if they could be melded together, as if the fire from his kiss could seal their bodies together in perfect union. Emma's eyes fluttered to a close, breathing deeply. Against her, he shuddered, sucking her skin just a little bit harder than necessary. He began to rub circles on her earlobe, with his index finger and his thumb— and that's when Emma (and the hot warmth in her hips) finally broke.

She pushed him away. He stumbled back, his face begging and frustrated.

"No, you gave me your word! You said—,"

Emma grabbed onto the lapels of his coat and, shoving them both up against the wall, kissed him so deeply, she felt a bit of herself tumble free and fall into his throat. He tasted like aged rum, good rum that's turned dark and heavy and runs clean down your throat. His tongue followed that path when she opened her mouth to him. He tasted like rum, and the cake that she swore she would never like, and the sweet, sweet cream, of sugar and milk and satin cream that stuck to places it had no business being. She wanted to lick it from him, run her tongue over his cheeks, up his throat, under his ear; lick the cream from his rough warm skin until she tasted sugar and flesh between her teeth. She wanted to roll in rum, swim in it completely naked and drag herself across him. She wanted to worship him in tangs and sweets of the tongue.

She wanted him to suck the sweat from her skin.

His hand clasped her hip, but his fingers twitched ever so, threatening to roam, to explore her. The hook was pressed against her butt, cold to her burning skin. But it was his lips, _God, his lips_, that nearly had her on her knees.

They pressed down onto every crack and crevice that she held secret. She swore she felt smoke rise from the trail they left on her neck, every touch intensified by the scratch of his stubble. She realized the breeze made her cold and with that, came the understanding that his tongue had been there too, lapping up her soft skin and tasting her when her defenses were down. _He had bested her_.

Furious and nearly blinded by their intensity, she drove her hands up into his hair and threw her hips forward. She felt the building's wooden walls claw at the back of her hands but she didn't care. If she was meant to be consumed, she wouldn't give it to him easily.

He grunted at the suddenly upheaval, his lips pulling back in a shocked smile, but she bit down onto his bottom lip and sucked. They slipped slightly, as his knees wavered. He shuddered, grasping the wall behind him, when she finally released him.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he marveled. Her wrists locked tightly around his neck, she gazed into his eyes, the desire there pressing a warm sensation to the bottom of her stomach.

"What? I don't hold out," she gasped. He chuckled, panting slightly, and kissed her again, this time much slower, but without the same heart-stopping tension as the one on her neck.

"You are one hell of a woman," Hook muttered, his eyes tracing over her face as a pen would write poetry. He gently curled a strand of hair behind her ear, before gazing back at her. His hand cupped her jaw. "I won't push, but Emma, do you want this to go on?"

He was absolutely serious; no joke, no whim glimmered in his blue eyes that now stood as resolute as stone.

She felt her heard pounding. She hadn't considered "going on". Logically, she obviously knew what came after a session like this, but something was stopping her.

Taking her pause to mean she was considering the idea, Hook righted himself and pulled her up to his chest.

"I've got a ship, Emma, a place where no one can find us." With a brush of his finger, he tossed hair from her sweaty forehead. "I've got a place where we can be utterly alone. No one will come looking, and no one will . . . well, hear the screams."

He smirked.

Emma's heart plummeted into her stomach. She was frozen to the spot—

It was a simple enough question that could be answered with the shake or turn of her head.

"Hook— I—,"

His face fell, but not seemingly by her pause. He looked upset by his own moniker, as though that was not the name he was expecting to fall from her lips.

Then the unthinkable happened.

"Emma," Ruby trotted out onto the balcony, her infamous red cloak twirling at her ankles. She caught the two entangled up in each other and gasped. Hook released her and turned his head into the dark, as though startled by the intruder. The wind picked up and Emma was suddenly very cold. Emma couldn't meet Ruby's perfectly aghast eyes.

Ruby glanced from Emma to Hook, who now stood in total darkness, staring at the ground. Emma rubbed her shoulder to fight off the cold. Her skin ached for the warmth of him, to be pressed up against his firm chest. Her lips burned from the scratch of his unshaven face.

Something furious and bright rushed up into her throat. She glared at Hook.

"Stay away from my son. You don't get to make promises without talking to me first."

Without another look in Hook's direction, she strode off passed Ruby.

It was a moment before the girl caught up with her.

"Um, did I see whatever I think I just saw?" The waitress asked, soundly slightly dazed. Emma wove through empty tables and chairs at the back of the restaurant, feeling heat creep up her cheeks, her fists clenching.

"I don't know, did you?"

"Emma, come on now, you have to tell me something—,"

"Whatever you're thinking, you're probably right."

Emma was caught off guard as the swift little wolf stepped in front of her, blocking her storm.

"Emma," Ruby begged imploringly. "I don't know what to think. One minute you're enemies, the next it looks like I interrupted a very important conversation, one that wasn't entirely said with words."

Emma swallowed and looked at the ground. "I don't know what to tell you. But Hook, he got to me. And tonight, I don't know, I just didn't want to fight back. But, please don't tell anyone."

Ruby frowned sadly and took Emma by the hands. "I would never tell anyone if you didn't want me to. And I would never judge you. Hooking up with . . . well, _Hook_ is pretty low on the 'Horrible Things to do' list."

The question tumbled out of her before she could stop it: "So it's okay, then? Me and Hook?"

Ruby smiled sadly. "I can't tell you what is right or wrong. You just have to do what feels right. But don't listen to what people say. That's a piece of advice that I've always kept. Your mother saved my life with it, actually."

Emma slipped her hands free, guilt blooming in her like a raging flower. Her mother, her father, Henry— they all saw her as a princess and like-wise, someone who would marry a prince. Not a blood-thirsty pirate. She nodded, trying to smile.

"That's good advice." Emma said, her throat nearly closed. Ruby frowned but Emma pushed passed her.

They entered into the big ballroom once again just as another song began. Mary-Margaret appeared out of nowhere, a ridiculous smile on her face and David wrapped around her like a giant bow. They were both panting.

"Where have you been, Emma?" Mary-Margaret gasped. "We've missed you out on the dance floor!"

"Had to use the bathroom." Emma murmured. "Where's Henry?"

"Your son is quite the charmer." David grinned at her. He pointed to the center of the ballroom, where Henry was teaching slow dancing with Granny and Blue in a weirdly cute threesome.

"I know where he gets it," Mary-Margaret muttered into her husband's cheek before kissing him vigorously.

"I don't meet to interrupt this little gathering," Whale said, sidling up out of the dark. "But I was wondering if Ms. Lucas here would like to dance."

Ruby, who was staring intently at Emma, blinked and looked over at him as if he had grown up out of the ground. Her cheeks suddenly turned scarlet and nodded. Graciously, she took his hand and they began to wander off, but before they got too far, Ruby turned and grabbed Emma by the arm.

"Don't forget what I said." She said imploringly. "Do what feels right. People will accept you whoever you are."

As Whale and Ruby trailed off, Emma felt the eyes of her parents latch onto the back of her head. It took all of her strength not to groan.

"What did she mean by that?" Mary-Margaret asked.

"Emma, are you in trouble?" It had only been a couple of weeks and David already mastered the "Dad" voice.

"No, guys, I'm fine, I was just worried that I hadn't spent enough time with Henry tonight, on his birthday and everything."

A hand tapped her shoulder. Emma turned, her stomach suddenly entirely liquid, and met Marco behind her.

"Would you care to spend a little more time away from your boy and join me in a dance?"

Emma saw Mary-Margaret swoon in David's arms out of the corner of her eye and felt the blush creep up her neck. But she nodded graciously, ignoring the bite of disappointment.

She allowed Marco to lead her onto the dance floor, and just as a perfect gentleman would, he delicately placed a hand on her waist and held the other aloft. She saw Henry swaying peacefully in the arms of Granny and Blue. He looked perfectly content.

She smiled back at Marco, urgently pushing thoughts of a certain pirate out of her mind.

"You look as beautiful as an evening flower, Princess Emma," Marco said graciously.

"Oh, please, you don't have to call me that. I'd kind of wish you wouldn't actually," Emma grimaced.

"Don't let anyone belittle you, Ms. Swan. I see much pain in your eyes." When she frowned, he continued. "I do not mean that in offense. I see you struggle every day to be a better woman and that is perhaps the most noble of goals. You want to be better for your son, for your family. But what about you, Ms. Swan? Don't you want to be better? What do you want?"

Emma's mouth dropped. "Of course, I want to be better for Henry. I think I am, getting better. I didn't like who I was before I came here to Storybrooke and I never want to see her again. That's why I like being here, with all of you. It gives me a chance to see how good the world can be."

"Then you have to stop seeing the worst in other people." At this moment, their dance slowed to barely a sway. Emma took every word like a bullet to the chest. "Love does not come at ease. Guarding your heart against pain is understandable, logical even. But that is one of life's great mysteries. Love is illogical, Ms. Swan. You can't time it, or measure it, but you can feel it. You feel it without a doubt. We all know what love feels like and once you do, there's no use in using logic because, well, most times there is no logic to be applied."

Emma shivered as though someone had let in a draft and without knowing why or how, she knew Killian was in the room. And the thought send shivers up her spine and nearly stopped her heart.

"And how do you know all this?" Emma whispered. Her palms felt sweaty.

Marco laughed, his silver beard glowing in the sprinkling light above them.

"Dear child, when you are as old as I am, you will have the same stories. It's inevitable. It's the glory of growing old. Now the question is, who do you want to tell those old stories to?"

Emma sighed and shrugged. She leaned forward and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"I have no freakin' clue."

He laughed again, this time hugging her, and the two continued to dance, his words surrounding them like lyrics of an unheard tune. She smelled burned wood and something sweet like lavender. She caught her mother and father at one of the tables. He was telling her a story and she was laughing so hard, tears poured down her round cheeks. And he loved watching her smile.

She found Ruby and Whale sitting bizarrely close together, their foreheads inches from touching. He had a hand on her knee and she played idly with his fingers.

Henry was showing Gretel his storybook, her brother happily eating more cake beside her. However, Gretel seemed minutely more interested Henry's hair than the pictures on the page.

Emma closed her eyes, smiling faintly.

All was well.

And yet . . .

Marco turned in their patterned circle, and Emma's eyes slid open. Across the room, in the dark recesses of the unlit corners, her eyes caught Hook. He had his arms crossed, an unruly grin tugging at his lips. A thick eyebrow leapt into the air, as if to ask, "_Really? The wood-cutter_?"

She felt her shoulders shrug and she hugged Marco tighter. All humor left his shadowed face and Emma felt the arrow of his jealousy lance his heart. She smiled quietly to herself and closed her eyes again, allowing Marco to turn her again.

_What are you doing, Emma?_

* * *

Later that night, when David carried a sleeping Henry back to the car, and Mary-Margaret took another twenty minutes to leave because she was profusely thanking and hugging everyone goodbye, even crying here and there. Emma stood by the arch of the door to the restaurant, wishing everyone well and good night. She grinned as Ruby was led from the building by a quiet but forceful Whale. Ruby blushed when Emma gave her a "thumbs up" when Whale opened the car door for her.

Eventually, the room was empty and the manager thanked them for their business. Emma was staring at the dark ballroom when her mother came up with a coat.

Mary-Margaret frowned and looked into the darkness as well.

"Emma, did you forget something?"

Emma shuddered and shook her head. She accepted the coat, but a questioned burned so hot in her mouth, she feared it might imprint on her throat.

"What if this is my costume? What if this isn't the real me?"

Mary-Margaret made a sound of sad dismay and wrapped herself around her daughter, her massive skirt shuffling like a gossamer bell.

"Sweetie, this was just a game for Henry! He's so in love with these stories, there's no way we couldn't let him have some fun! But Emma, honey, I thought you'd be proud of his choice for you."

Emma frowned. Mary-Margaret smiled that smile where happiness literally consumed her and it beamed from her, like a beacon. Her blood-red lips shown bright in the night. She took her daughter by the cheeks.

"We, the people of this town, are all separate people, Emma. We will have memories forever of living two lives, of being both part of this world and the land that is truly our home. But, sweetie, _you are the Savior_. There is no second part of you where you are a hero and where you aren't. Every bit of you is the Savior and that's why it's wonderful. You are perfect, just as you are."

Mary-Margaret hugged her and Emma shuddered, tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

"I'm so glad you're here." Emma cried softly into her mother's shoulder.

"Oh, Emma," Mary-Margaret said gently, stroking her daughter's hair. "You are so full of light, you draw people in. You will never be alone."

That night as David drove them all home, Emma watched trees fly by in the moonlight, Henry's sleeping head resting in her lap. Her free hand cold by the air conditioner, she put into the pocket of her jacket. She felt something small and sharp there and when she pulled it out, she realized it was a folded slip of paper.

Her heart doing summersaults, she glanced at her parents and Henry to make sure neither one was watching her. Then she opened the paper.

_ I was wrong and shouldn't have said the words I did._

_ The food was far from divine because the most heaven-sent being here tonight was you. Tonight, you were a princess, Emma, and I am thankful I got to spend even a moment in your beautiful glory. Tell your son I am in his debt now and there is nothing I won't do to repay him._

_ The offer still stands, Emma Swan, should you wise up one day. And that day, I look most forward to. _

_ I'm not here looking for absolution. I have found myself an old solution. _

_ Come find me one night, if you wish to find your own liberty._

_-K_

* * *

_*A/N Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites! This makes my heart happy! I think we've got about two more to go and then we're done! Thanks again!_


End file.
